


The day he walked

by Mixedia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Pre series, Stanford University, Wee!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixedia/pseuds/Mixedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon for pre-series Supernatural. This is my headcanon for the day Sam Winchester leaves for Stanford</p>
            </blockquote>





	The day he walked

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Alcohol abuse, references to the death of a child, implied violence from a father to his son

Sam Winchester was in his 20's now, so Dean figured he'd be fine while he went out to get them both food. He'd been gone maybe an hour or so, the line at the take-away place was pretty long, but it was the only take-away he'd found in the small town that did pies big enough for him and Sam to share without breaking their budget. At least Dean didn't have to provide food for their dad as well, John had done his usual and dumped them in some cheap-ass motel before rushing off to another job. But Dean didn't care, they had money for pie, there was a bar down the street that sold good, cheap whiskey and Sam had his brand new laptop that Dean had bought him for his birthday after getting lucky on a scratch card he'd bought with a dollar he'd found on the floor, so he'd be content.

He headed right back to the motel after getting the food, wanting to sit down and eat before it lost too much heat, although the smell of the cinnamon in the apple pie was almost too much to bear. He walked into their room with his mouth watering and his mind full of excited thoughts of hitting the bar that night and finding some chick to keep him company for an hour or two. His bed was still a tangle of covers, pillows still crooked from his sleep the night before, but of course Sam's bed was made up and immaculate.

But there was no sign of his younger brother.  
"Sammy?" Dean called, closing the door and walking over to put the bag of food on the table. When no reply came, Dean shrugged to himself. "His loss." He muttered, taking off his jacket and hanging it up on one of the chairs. He was surprised there was enough room for the bag of food and it took him a moment to realise there was because Sam's laptop wasn't there. Dean frowned at the empty space, his mind telling him Sam was probably at the library even as he turned round to look at Sam's bed. His bag wasn't there.

"Ok, so he probably left his clothes in dad's car, what an idiot." Dean told himself out loud, trying to calm the panic that was beginning to bubble away at the surface of his consciousness. He had just started taking deep, steadying breaths when he noticed the corner of a piece of white paper sticking out from under the cover of Sam's bed. He grinned at his own foolishness, of course Sam would be alright, he was the third best hunter Dean had ever known afterall, behind Dean himself and their dad, of course. Shaking his head as the panic began to subside, he strode over to the bed and picked up the piece of paper, unfolding it and reading the note in Sam's familiar hand writing.

_**I don't know how to write this, so I'm just going to write it. I got a place at Stanford college and a full scholarship. Classes begin next week and I want to be settled in before they start. After what dad said last week before he went on this hunt... Well, he was right. I'm out Dean. Sorry.** _

The blast of panic that hit Dean was so intense it almost knocked him over. He read the note over and over again, his mind going back to the argument Sam and John had had just a few days ago.

_"I don't want to do this anymore dad." Sam said, dangerously quiet. "I don't understand, you're supposed to be my dad and dad's are supposed to be proud when their sons want to go to school, it's supposed to make you happy."_  
"Well it doesn't!" John had shouted back. "Why would it? You'd be throwing away your family; me and your brother. You'd be throwing away your mother's memory, does she mean nothing to you?"  
"Of course she does but this revenge is crazy, we're no closer to finding the thing that killed her than we were when we started." Sam countered, the anger in his voice becoming more pronounced.  
"Hey, guys!" Dean had cut in, trying to get between them with a hand on either man's chest, but Sam had grown so much he was taller than Dean now and easily brushed his hand away. John had always been stronger so doing the same wasn't much of a challenge for him either.  
"Now you listen to me boy..." John had begun.  
"Dad would you just shut up for two moments?" Dean had begged as John had stepped right up into Sam's face, glaring like he could kill him with a look.  
"You're in this life, if you don't want it then fine. Walk out that door, don't let it hit you on the way out. But you know what? If you do walk out, don't bother coming back." John had almost spat at his youngest son. "No son of mine is going to abandon his family like that and if you do, then I guess you're not my son." 

But Dean had known John was only saying that to keep Sam around. He didn't want Sam gone, not really. John Winchester wanted both sons around to keep them safe, to protect them.  
For half a heartbeat, Dean Winchester felt so much pride for his little brother. He knew scholarships weren't easy to come by for people like him and Sam, people who had moved from school to school their whole lives. He remembered the longest they had ever stayed at one school was 3 months. And yet, Sam had never received anything less than an A on his exams and essays. He knew his brother was smart, seriously smart and that college was right for him.

But then the half a heartbeat was over and the other half of that same heartbeat showed Dean the other side of the story. It showed Sam sleeping in a dorm room when the things that go bump in the night finally caught up with him. The younger Winchester brother would have no weapons with him, he was choosing to completely ignore the world they knew was out there and act like a civilian again. For the Winchesters, this was the worst idea.

Then a thought crossed Dean's mind.  
"Dad."  
With that thought, fear was suddenly shooting through his body like ice water. He remembered all those warnings his father had ever given him, the phrase he had grown up with; "Shoot first, ask questions later and always, always, protect Sammy." Sam was the most important thing in Dean's life, the thing his father trusted him to look after, to keep his eye on and those very few times that Dean had slipped up...

Before he knew what he was doing, he was out the door of the motel and screaming into the night.  
"SAMMY! SAMMY GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! COME ON SAMMY THIS ISN'T FUNNY!! SAM?!" He paused for a second, then for the first time in his life, he prayed. "Please, somebody, anybody that's out there, please... Bring Sammy back to me. Or if not, at least look after him? Please, I'm begging here. God, Jesus... Heck, even angels if they exist..." And he began calling every name he had ever read in the bible, "Gabriel, Noah, Abraham, Castiel, Adam, Eve, Moses, any of you... anyone that exists, please!"

"Hey, shut up man! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Came a reply from one of the other people living at the motel.  
"Go screw yourself you son of a bitch." Dean shouted back angrily, his eyes stinging and his legs shaking from fear and worry. But he knew screaming for his brother was no use. For all he knew, Sam could have left as soon as Dean had gone for food which meant he would be at least an hour away by now, maybe even longer. He stood in the parking lot for another few minutes before trudging back to the room.

It was now full of the smell of cinnamon and apples, but the smell no longer made Dean's mouth water. Now it made him feel sick to his stomach. He dug his phone out of his pocket and began furiously typing in Sam's number, but of course, Sam's phone was off. He was probably still driving, they were at least 12 hours drive away from Stanford and Sam would probably want to move into his room as soon as possible, which meant driving for 12 hours straight. But Dean couldn't think of anything else. He called Sam 30 times in the next 2 hours, each time his heart skipping a beat when he hit the "call" button after typing in the number, and each time his heart hit his feet when Sam's voice came through.

_**Hi, you've reached Sam Winchester. I can't answer right now. If you have an emergency of any kind, call my dad or my brother.** _

On the 31st call, Dean was listening to the message again, now hoping beyond hope that the message would say something different, anything, that might let Dean know how to get in contact with his little brother, when he heard the sound of a key being inserted into the door.

He stood up fast, eyes wide with fear, the phone in his hand hanging by his side with Sam's message still playing. The door banged open too quickly and John Winchester almost fell into the room, holding the door frame for support so he didn't. In his other hand was a whiskey bottle with maybe a single measure of whiskey left, John's eyes bloodshot and wandering, his whole body looking too heavy for him to hold it up.

"Dad?" Dean could hear the way his voice shook in fear and hoped his dad would miss it.  
"Where's your brother?" John slurred, spit running down his chin as his wobbled on his feet.  
"How much have you had dad?" Dean asked, the fear disappearing and worry setting in seeing the state his father was in. "Come on, let's get you to bed so you can sleep off the booze."  
"I SAID, where's your brother?" John slurred again, angry this time, pushing Dean off him and wobbling his way into the room.

Dean pushed the door closed, struggling with his brain to come up with a good excuse as to why Sam wasn't here, but he couldn't think of anything. He had enough to think about as it was with the truth of Sam and wondering what had happened to their father.  
"I'll tell you when you tell me why you're so drunk." He countered, hoping to buy himself some more time.  
"I lost the vic." John stated bluntly, sitting down on one of the chairs so heavily Dean winced as he expected it to give way, but it didn't and John slammed the bottle on the table in front of him, squinting at it as he tried to get focus. "A bleeding six year old girl, got mauled by a spirit, her mom was next to her, dead as a doornail. There was nothing I could do about it." John continued, shrugging his shoulders and letting tears fall down his face. "I held her as I watched... watched it drain out of her. Her... her blood, her life, her soul... A six year old girl." He hiccoughed, then he looked back at his oldest son, his eyes a little more steady, fixed on Dean's face. "So I'm really not in the mood for guessing games tonight Dean." His voice was suddenly a lot steadier, a lot less slurred, like he realised Dean was trying to hide something. He glared at Dean, his knuckles turning white against the whiskey bottle's neck as he tightened his grip. "Dean, where is Sam?"

"He's gone." Dean managed to choke out, feeling the shakes begin in his hands and work their way up his arms.  
"Gone?" John repeated, frowning at Dean. "What do you mean, gone?"  
"He left us, dad." Dean replied, clenching his fists to keep himself strong enough to continue. The shaking was all over him now and his eyes were feeling hot and prickly. "He got a full scholarship at Stanford and he left. He wrote this note..." Dean had hardly finished his sentence when John propelled himself across the room and snatched the note out of Dean's hand. John's eyes frantically read through the note, paused and re-read it, his face becoming more and more anger filled with each second. Finally he looked up at Dean.

"Why weren't you here?" He whispered, disbelief in his voice. "Why weren't you here to stop him?"  
"I went out to get us food, dad, I'm so sorry." Dean replied, voice thick with guilt and regret.  
"I told you to look after him, I told you to protect him, I told you to keep him here." John's voice became more outraged with every word. "So why did he run away on your watch? WHY HAVE YOU FAILED ME AGAIN DEAN?" John screamed, little drops of spit landing on Dean's face.

The guilt, regret, pain, upset and defeat all left Dean's heart in one fell swoop and he felt like he'd be crushed under the weight of it all. He closed his eyes and let the first tear fall, followed by another one at his failure. That's when John Winchester's fist made contact with his son's face. It took less than 10 minutes for the blows to knock Dean unconscious.


End file.
